Controlling Your Lust
by LesbianTVLover
Summary: With the ability to control the sex drives of everyone around her Santana is used to getting whatever, and whoever, she wants. She thinks the stripper named Brittany should be a piece of cake; until the blonde bombshell seems able to resist her wicked charms.
1. Chapter 1: Introductions

_**Hey y'all. Hope you enjoy this first chapter. Obviously don't own Glee. I'll update usually once a week but I work midnights, so expect them on a vampires schedule.**_

* * *

><p>The attendants at the prestigious Jefferson Hotel had their fair share of high class, wealthy, clients. They were well used to business men, media moguls, fashion princesses and celebrities; and their venue clearly represented that. Stepping into the Jefferson Hotel was akin to stepping into a royal palace. The glitz and glam with every modern amenity known to man, the Jefferson Hotel catered exclusively to Richmond's, and the worlds, finest. Every employee on the payroll of the Jefferson had their backgrounds as vigorously checked as if they worked for the government. Only the best of their fields were accepted to work in the hotel and every job, from the valet and the bellhops all the way to floor managers, were taken with the strictest seriousness. Valet boys knew the exact correct way to politely ogle and assist the female passenger from a Porsche 918 Spyder to receive a tip large enough to cover their rent for a month. Bellhops could tell the difference between a Louis Vuitton rolling luggage bag and a Dolce&amp;Gabbana wheeled trolley at a glance; and knew the different smile and polite comment required for each style of women. Floor managers knew the name, net worth, income and home city of every client on their floor off the top of their head; and kept a running list of who ranked the highest by status and wealth.<p>

It was common practice to have camera's near the entrance and around the hotel, media personal for the clients in the news such as senators, and mayors and paparazzi for the celebrities, and therefore all Jefferson employees were taught and strictly regulated in controlling their facial expressions. Employees faces must be calm at all times, always politely smiling but never smirking. Leering, ogling, gazing or any action that could be construed as admiring the body of a client was strictly prohibited. Polite eye contact at the initial greeting is required but prolonged staring is unacceptable. Protocol dictates employees must demurely lower their gazes as they complete their task so as they don't seem to challenge the authority of the higher class. Nearly a quarter of the thousands of security camera's inside and around the perimeter of the Jefferson were actually to watch the employees, and not the guests, for any hint of rule breaking; none of them would dare to. Their weekly paychecks belied the wealth of the Jefferson and their clients and most were well off in their own rights because of it.

That was why, on a completely unextraordinary Wednesday evening Will Schuester, the General Day Manager of the hotel, was floored completely stupid when he stepped into the main lobby of the hotel and found every employee within his sight standing slack jawed and motionless. He wanted to clap his hands and scream to get their attention but making a scene inside the Jefferson was one of the worst offences to commit. He briskly, but completely calmly and betraying no emotion on his face, walked to the nearest bellhop standing by the luggage racks and hissed quietly through his teeth. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

Finn Hudson, a slightly dimwitted but gentle giant of a man in his early twenties, barely even registered his bosses boss's voice nearly in his ear. He merely blinked several more times and nodded his head in the direction of the front double doors.

Will's breath had hitched in his throat before he'd even fully looked up all the way. There, actually posed in the front door and soaking up every gaze that was inevitably drawn to her, was the most gorgeous, sexy and impossibly beautiful woman he had ever seen. It wasn't just her beauty that stopped him, although that alone would have been enough to do it, it was how impossibly _alluring _she was. He found he was literally incapable of taking his eyes off of her. Her pose, left hand resting on her hip and a dangerous smirk painted across blood red pouting lips, simply screamed that she knew she owned the entire room.

Will was in a happily committed relationship but if the woman by the door asked him to drop down to his knees and never look at another woman again while he worshipped her he would simply be confused as to _why _she thought he would even consider looking at someone other than her. Her absolutely flawless tanned caramel, creamy mocha coloured skin gave her a faintly exotic look and her dark brunette, slightly curly tresses fell halfway down her back. Her figure left nothing to the imagination in the slinky, body hugging blood red dress she was wearing. The halter style, obviously designer dress, barely contained her chest which had every occupant, men and women, in the room drooling. Those that managed to drag their eyes farther down were rewarded with the sight of almost her entire left leg as the borderline scandalous slit in the gown reached all the way to her hipbone. Her feet were clad in strappy four inch stiletto heels, which gave a little more height to her rather petite stature.

The one section of Will's brain that was not busy sending blood to another region of his body registered that she held no purse and had no luggage at all with her.

She finally dropped her pose and began to strut cockily across the marble tiles of the hotel. The clicking of her heels, which sounded thunderous in the deadly silent lobby, snapped everyone's attention back to her face. Most of her features were hidden behind large black tinted Ray Bans but Will could still clearly make out that seemingly ever present smirk. The closer she got the harder it seemed for Will to remember how to breath; and if the prepubescent sounding panting coming from the rather large young man beside him was anything to byWill wasn't the only one having trouble.

The woman never faltered in her stride as she neared them and Will thought, though he couldn't be sure due to her sunglasses, that her gaze never even flickered over to them. She was almost already past them when she finally spoke. "I'm already checked into the penthouse." Her voice was like silk and just a hint raspy; Will's mouth went dry. She headed straight for the elevators and not a single soul in the lobby moved until they closed behind her and blocked her from view. Will, and all the others, let out strangled breaths like they'd been under water too long.

Inside the elevator the woman was left alone with an operator; a young boy of probably only eighteen attempting to stare diligently ahead at the numbered buttons. He'd instinctively hit the floor for the penthouses, for nobody who looked and acted like her was on any other floor.

The woman's one toe tapped a steady, mildly impatient, rhythm as the elevator rose. She pulled a cigar from within her generous cleavage and wrapped blood red lips around it. A small lighter was pulled next, from the slit in her dress where the boy whimpered at the glimpse of the garter she'd somehow been storing it in. She lit the cigar in one smooth motion and tucked the lighter into her cleavage. She inhaled deeply and released the smoke through her nose. She suddenly froze and her smirk grew; she turned just a hair to the right to look at the teenager. He shifted his legs awkwardly under her gaze which drew her attention down to his crotch; and the steadily growing bulge within them.

He cleared his throat and flushed a deep red and tried not to think about his extremely obvious boner. "Oh, don't worry, niño pequeño," she cooed at him; her voice may have been playful but the glint in her hidden eyes was deadly, "happens all the time." She suddenly reached out and gripped his cock through his jeans none too gently. A strangled moan escaped his throat and his legs threatened to collapse under him.

The elevator doors pinged open and woman stepped through immediately; she didn't let go of the boys dick though which resulted in her giving him a sharp tug before letting him slide through his fingers. He did collapse then, in a groaning and shaking heap on the elevator floor; the woman merely took another deep drag of her cigar as she walked away without second thought.

She walked down the hallway towards the end where she knew the Presidential Penthouse waited like she owned the entire building. She didn't; but the thought that if she wanted it she could have the signed deed in her hand in under ten minutes made her smirk a little wider. Flaunting and thinking about her power was basically the only thing left that still brought her any joy. She flicked the end of her cigar and ashed onto the carpeted floor without care. The closer she got to the penthouse suite the more her skin buzzed lightly; like there were tiny electrical surges happening across her skin. Her one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched. _So they had started the party without her, _she noted. She briefly considered kicking the ornate door in but after a sigh settled for making sure the door slammed when she thrust it open. Ten sets of eyes immediately snapped to her and she basked in the feeling of being powerful.

Seven of the eyes now staring, or rather ogling her, had lust blown pupils and facial expressions devoid of anything except desire. These she passed over for the other three sets of eyes; she wasn't sure she'd ever go as far as to call them her friends, for she had no emotional ties whatsoever, but they were at the least faithful business partners.

She met Puck's eyes first because she knew all she'd find behind his chocolate eyes was amusement and a little bit of lust himself. His well built and powerful body was draped across the posh leather sofa with his feet up on the glass coffee table. He was dressed simply in dark baggy jeans, a black wifebeater and a well worn leather jacket. His hair was cut into a Mohawk which made his chiselled features match his boy-like personality. The woman would have to admit that he was sexy; even if he was a lecherous pig.

She swung her gaze over to the other two cuddled on the opposite love seat and met Mercedes eyes and arched eyebrow. Mercedes had gorgeous dark chocolate skin and curves to simply die for. She was in a floor length black, sparkly gown and her feet were sheathed in bright purple fuck me pumps. Mercedes eyes held anticipation and grudging respect; and the touch of jealousy she always tried to hide.

She was finally forced to direct her gaze to the man Mercedes was snuggled up beside. Sam's eyes and lips were downturned in clear disappointment. His blonde shaggy hair just brushed the underside of his jaw and gave him a distinct California surfer look. He was a little leaner than Puck, less broad but just as muscled. He was dressed up more than Puck, but not quite as much as the two ladies, in a dark blue button up shirt and black dress slacks. His hazel eyes were practically shining in their disapproval and it made the woman clench her teeth. She was in no mood for one of his speeches.

Mercedes seemed to sense this and when Sam opened his mouth she lightly squeezed their clasped hands in warning.

The woman took a look around their new living quarters; 1,400 hundred square feet of top of the line comfort and style. She finally landed her gaze on the seven scantily clad men and woman surrounding their bar. "We didn't completely start without you." Puck smirked.

"He wanted to." Mercedes huffed.

Puck gasped and pretended to be hurt. "I wouldn't start without you, Lopez, no way."

She took another drag off her cigar and waited for the chiding voice she knew was coming. "Santana." Sam's voice was soft but still held some weight.

Santana sighed and closed her eyes for a second; she heard the gasping breaths of the other occupants and then their mindless chatter as their conversations started up again. "Really Sam, I don't know why you bother still attending these little...get-togethers if you enjoy yourself so little."

Sam sighed. "I enjoy myself, San." He said for the thousandth time. "I just think that things should be-"

"Done in moderation." Santana and Puck mocked him in unison. Santana went to take a step towards the open chair and found herself blocked by a tall brunette wearing an almost classless black tube top style dress that just let Santana see the bottom of her pink thong from under the hem. Far from feeling turned on Santana was almost annoyed; didn't this generation know there was something called the hunt?

"You," the slut breathed heavily, "are positively the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Santana could easily see her lust; the woman was barely restraining herself. Santana hoped she wouldn't lose that shred of control; she'd break a bitch for trying to jump her without permission. Instead of answering Santana took another inhale off her cigar and blew it back in the woman's face. "Who are you?" She practically whispered when Santana made no other moves.

_Stupid pop culture, _Santana rolled her eyes. "You don't recognize me?" She mocked. She took another inhale except this time when she expelled it from her lungs the smoke was an extremely deep coloured burgundy, so dark it was almost black. The smoke instantly travelled into the woman's nose and mouth. "I'm Cupid, bitch."

* * *

><p>Brittany was pulled from her daydream by a sharp, but not really painful, flick to her ear. She turned, pouting slightly, to the woman standing before her. "Stop moving." Quinn snapped. Her slightly harsh words were softened by the gentle touch she gave as she ran her hand through Brittany's long, blonde locks. "You've only got a few minutes left and I need to finish your makeup. So stop bobbing your head." Brittany dutifully became still in her chair as Quinn once again brought the makeup brush to her face; but they both knew that soon enough Brittany's body would once again be swaying to the beat as she attempted to dance in her chair.<p>

Quinn finished quickly, leaving her makeup light to accentuate her natural beauty and only heavy around her eyes to make her blue iris's really sparkle. "Okay, you're good." Quinn stepped away to briefly admire her handiwork. "Put your hair up." Brittany obeyed without question and pulled a hair tie from her wrist.

Quinn eyed the blonde bombshell before her with a critical eye but found nothing amiss. "Okay ladies, two minutes." She called out to the room. The three other women who were required to be on stage quickly stood before the floor length mirrors and gave themselves final once overs.

"Well don't you look fabulous." A cheerful voice said from behind Brittany; she squealed and practically launched herself from her chair.

"Mikey!" Mike's arm were, thankfully, already open and ready to suddenly have 5 feet 8 inches of dancer nearly on top of him or he'd have tumbled over. "I didn't think I was going to get to see you today." Brittany smiled warmly at him. She finally stepped back and noticed he was still in his street clothes; just a pair of threadbare jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His stylishly rumpled, windswept black hair matched his smooth, almost adorable features and his perfect white teeth practically sparkled against his toffee coloured skin.

"You weren't going to, but Boss called me in. Said we had a meeting after opening act tonight. Figured I might as well come in early enough to get to spend some time with my best friend." The smile Brittany was giving him was completely infectious and he couldn't help but beam back at her. He gave her a once over and, unlike when other people did it, Brittany didn't feel uncomfortable at all. She knew Mike's gaze wasn't lecherous; he was looking at her entire person with a professionals eye, not simply staring at her rather exposed body. She was wearing stiletto high heels which put her at even height with Mike and then fishnet stockings which wrapped around her legs until her garters. Her booty shorts were already miniscule but Mike knew the black leather were actually tearaways. Her completely see through white silk top flowed around her body and gave her an angelic appearance that only Brittany could pull off. Mike also knew the top wouldn't last very long. Currently hidden by the top were the suspenders, attached to the garters around her thighs, and a blood red bra that matched the leather straps.

Mike couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness wash over him as he looked at her. Pity was forbidden in their line of work but Mike had known Brittany since they were kids and he wanted so much more for her. He shifted his eyes slightly and caught Quinn's gaze over Brittany's right shoulder; the look in her eye let Mike know she felt the same.

Brittany, however, took everything in stride and simply allowed her happy feelings at seeing Mike block everything else out. "Go get into position Britt." Quinn ordered softly. "And here, don't forget your hat and gloves." Brittany took the articles of clothing and set the hat on her head at a titled angle and pulled on the black leather, fingerless gloves.

Brittany practically skipped away, after stopping to press a quick smacking kiss to Mike's cheek, and the three other girls who had been prepping followed her out of the dressing room. "She breaks my heart." Mike admitted softly.

"I know." Quinn murmured just as quietly. "You know I love that girl too."

"She's family." Mike shrugged his shoulders simply. "We might have done things to put ourselves here, but that girl deserves better." Quinn remained quiet and Mike looked over at the woman who was both his friend and confidant. "You know why I got called in?"

"No. If I did I'd tell you. But I know Boss wants to see Britt, Sugar and Blaine as well as you." Mike arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"What could Boss want with the four of us?" Mike knew he wasn't in trouble; he earned too much for this place to be in trouble. In fact, the four names Quinn had mentioned were the top four earners in the place.

"Not sure." Quinn's jaw was locked and she spoke through clenched teeth. "Makes me nervous."

Mike's lips turned down in sympathy. He knew many would think that his and Britt's job were the worst but he truly believed Quinn had the worse deal. It was her job to take care of everybody and once Quinn had adopted you, you were family for life. It genuinely surprised Mike that Quinn wasn't a mother because she took care of everybody like they were her own children and it broke her a little bit each day to see what they were subjected to.

He glanced around to make sure that nobody was looking before wrapping one arm around the much smaller woman's shoulders and pulling her against him. Quinn accepted the side hug, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment. "Did it look busy out there?" Quinn straightened her spine and put on her business persona once more.

"Very." Mike admitted. "You know how Wednesday's are." Quinn pursed her lips and nodded tersely.

"I do. I'm just going to go give them one final check up. Going to watch the show?"

"Of course. You know I love to watch her dance." A slightly pained expression came over his face. "Even if it is like this."

Quinn led the way out of the dressing room and hit the backstage area. Two of the girls were situated at the far right and left of the stage and Quinn checked on them first. A gentle hand on their arm, a genuine smile, a kiss on their cheeks; Quinn knew in a lot of the cases that even though she was only a few years older than most of them that she was as close as these girls had to a mother. Once she made her way back to centre stage she gave Aubrey a warm hug and an encouraging wink before stepping several feet back to where Brittany waited.

Now that her surprise visit from Mike was over Brittany's ever present smile had faded just one degree. Quinn didn't hesitate for a second to wrap her arm around the taller blonde's waist. Fortunately, she knew exactly how to talk to the dancer. "You feel that?" Brittany's body was instantly swaying to the beat that the speakers were playing. It picked up in intensity, and dropped the bass a little, to let the audience know they were close. Brittany instantly felt an excited shiver race down her spine; the music was already taking over her body. "You're going to dance so beautifully." Quinn told her friend honestly. Brittany nodded excitedly. "And who are you dancing for?"

"Me." Brittany answered simply with a wry grin that let Quinn know Britt thought the answer was obvious.

"That's right. Just you. Just dance, Britt."

Brittany leaned down and pressed her lips against Quinn's temple and Quinn knew there was nothing else she needed to say. She stepped away and let the dancer have her moment. Brittany would be hard to distract now anyway; she had the uncanny ability to literally let her body take over when the music started.

Quinn left the backstage area and headed into the main venue. She was long since used to this place but she had to admit it was impressive. The stage alone was breathtaking; it was made up of three different circles with the centre stage circle being raised a little higher by about a foot. The entire back wall was mirrors that were sliding doors so that the dancers could emerge from behind them. The centre of each circle stage held the classic stainless steel pole.

The first row seats and small bistro tables were right along the edge of the stages in what was generally referred to as perverts row. There were several lines of these types of tables before farther back got to the circular booth type tables with their own tiny stage in the middle. The entire wall opposite the stage was the bar that boasted three bartenders at all times.

Quinn was well aware of the clubs success and that was probably because the strip club was also part Burlesque. It wasn't just scantily clad girls on stage revealing themselves to a crowd. It was scantily clad professional dancers with real choreographed routines revealing themselves to a crowd. Unfortunately, there were enough struggling, down on their luck dancers to make the club a reality.

However, the Cheerio Club definitely had a few extra amenities which brought it over the top of just any old strip club. First of which would probably be the dance floor. Unlike all other strip clubs the Cheerio Club actually encouraged on the floor dancing by its patrons which helped to bring in more females than most other clubs had. The dancers were actually required to spend a percentage of their night on the actual dance floor with the regular patrons to keep the dance vibe going at all times. They also, on any given night, had both male and female dancers on stage so that anyone in the club had something pleasing to their eye to watch. The second extra service, and crowd favourite, were the cages. Basically four human bird cages were situated around the club, two on the ground beside the dance floor and two suspended from the ceiling above pervert row, always encased four of the clubs dancers. Clad in only the barest of essentials, and those garments usually of the see through variety, the dancers inside the cage had almost total movement restricted which allowed them basically only to gyrate and touch themselves for the crowds amusement and pleasure.

Quinn detested the cages more than anything else because it killed her to see her kids locked inside them for a night. The Boss openly used the cages as punishment and the dancers with the lowest earnings for the week were almost always guaranteed a trip to the cage. The two suspended cages were the worst because you performed without any hope of getting tipped at all.

As much as Quinn wanted to avoid looking at the cages she wouldn't do it; instead she met the eyes of the two girls and two boys locked inside them for the night and offered the warmest smile she could muster.

Quinn slipped around to a completely deserted corner out of the way where she could simultaneously watch the stage show and the goings on in the club. She felt a presence beside her and tensed before relaxing into Mike's side. Both of their eyes were drawn to the stage as the DJ stilled the music for a beat and three of the sliding glass panels opened to reveal the dancers. Cat calls already began as they took in the almost matching black and white outfits the three girls wore. The opening notes of Blame It On the Alcohol began to play and the three girls, startlingly realistically, pretended to drunk stumble and sway out onto their places. Their dance began with the music, slow and sultry, and Quinn knew they were simply building up the crowd to the main event; Brittany.

Even though Brittany was standing behind the stage still and the mirrors were closed she could picture the moves her fellow dancers were making perfectly. She should be able to; she taught them the dance herself. Her hips were moving to the beat of the song as she waited for her cue.

Brittany knew exactly what was waiting out there for her. The club might have been strobing with lights but it was still clear enough that she could see. The expressions on those in perverts row were usually some of the worst; their greedy, hungry eyes raking over her body in rude and unapologetic ways, their exposed teeth as they panted and ran their tongues over dry lips and hands unashamedly touching themselves over, and sometimes under, their clothes. Looking out into the crowd was generally no better, the cat calls, wolf whistles and gyrating bodies seemed to form one solid mass on the dance floor and it was terrifying to know that if the tables turned on the dancers there would be little they could do against the riot. Almost worse than perverts row was, god forbid, making eye contact with whichever dancers were locked in the cages for the night. Seeing them made Brittany think of abused puppies as they were completely naked and vulnerable before the crowd.

At least Brittany had her body, her dancing, as a weapon against the masses; those in the cages were simply bodies on display with no last line of defence.

So Brittany was not naive as to what awaited her as she heard the change of the beat, the drop as the music became a mash-up, and she stepped through the sliding mirror out onto the stage. She simply decided to focus on the better things.

The music took over and Brittany's body snapped into a pose as the beat to I'm A Slave 4 U pumped through the expensive speaker system. Her three backup dancers followed her example as they went into their routine.

Brittany was happy she got to see Mike today. She didn't always and even when they were at work they were usually too busy to actually spend any time together.

Britt's shirt was ripped from her body by her backup dancers to reveal her abs, defined enough to cut steel, and her chest already coated in a sheen of sweat. The calls and whistles intensified and bills were already littered on the stage.

Quinn had also promised she would find the time to hangout this week which Britt always looked forward too. The last time they'd spent all night in their pajama's eating ice cream and watching horror movies.

Brittany was on her hands and knees basically crawling on her stomach right to the edge of pervert's row. She backrolled slowly, giving them basically a close up view of herself, and rough calloused hands grabbed at her and trailed down her skin.

Maybe she could convince Mike and Quinn to hangout the same night and they could have a dance party. Quinn usually felt self conscious dancing with the two professionals but one or two vodka shots usually loosened her up.

Brittany slid her hands all the way from her neck, down her chest, down into her shorts as she pretended to touch herself. At the hit of the next beat she tore the shorts off her body and they split at the seams showing off the black thong that was all she was wearing now.

Brittany's favourite part of the dance was coming up and she internally grinned as she remembered being at Julliard and impressing the stuffy ballet dancers with her hip hop street moves.

Britt finally incorporated the pole and spun herself around three times without touching the ground and then flipped herself over so she was holding on by only her legs. She knew her chest was basically spilling out of her red bra and Sara, the backup dancer sliding down the pole basically between her legs backwards, undid the strap with her teeth until it fell away and Brittany's breasts were exposed. She flipped herself over and landed on her heels and then the four almost completely naked girls danced in unison.

Before Brittany even realized it the dance was over and her and the other girls were walking around the stage provocatively picking up their discarded clothing, the pieces that hadn't made their way into the crowd, and the hundreds of dollars of bills littered across the stage.

Brittany walked back into the change room and four other dancers were waiting politely with their robes held open for them. Each girl slid into them gratefully. They had each been around each other naked so often it really wasn't even a big deal anymore; it was more that they spent so much time naked they preferred to be clothed when they could.

A small round of applause, very different from the foot stomping, screams for more, occurring back out in the main stage, made Brittany beam. "Very impressive." Mike smiled wildly and Brittany wrapped him up in her arms once more.

"Thanks. The double heel to toe back slide idea you had for the middle section-"

"Britt." Quinn cut the dancers off gently knowing that once they started little could distract them. "You guys have to go and see the Boss." Quinn finished gathering all the money from the girls to be counted later.

Brittany's smile dropped somewhat. "Are we in trouble?"

"No way, Sunshine." Mike protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Nobody can be mad at you."

Quinn smiled lightly because the statement was, for the most part, actually true. "C'mon." She ushered the two forward again. "You know the drill. When Sue Sylvester says jump,"

"Your head better hit the fucking ceiling." Mike and Brittany repeated with matching smirks.

"You got it." Quinn nodded. She started leading them farther into the Cheerio Club and, with growing trepidation because she didn't know what was going on, hoped she wasn't bringing the lambs to the slaughter.


	2. Chapter 2: Our Lives

**A/N: Hey y'all. Hope everybody enjoys this next chapter. Seriously thank you to anyone who favourited or followed; I was literally blown away. Still don't own Glee unfortunately. **

Santana lazily blinked her eyes open and let out a frustrated sigh when she realized she was almost completely pinned to the bed in a tangled heap of naked bodies. With little thought to her beds other occupants she pushed a blonde woman's leg off of her hips and practically threw the slutty brunettes arm from around her waist. She shuffled and slid towards the end of the bed until she was free to stand up. Her body ached in that oh so familiar way but there was little pleasure in it. She stretched up to her full height, arms above her head, and worked the kinks out of her back; and her jaw.

The covers for the bed had been completely kicked off last night sometime between rounds two and three and Santana didn't bother to cover the naked two still in her bed back up. She closed her eyes for one second and her extremely dark burgundy smoke materialized and curled around her body. When she was completely surrounded the smoke dissipated as fast as it had come and revealed Santana now standing in a form fitting, pinstripe pant suit and black pumps.

One of the figures on the bed, she suspected the blonde, groaned and shifted in her sleep and the brunette woman instinctively shifted closer to her until they occupied the centre of the bed where Santana had been laying minutes prior.

With no one around to watch her face Santana's facade slipped ever so slightly. A crack in the perfect mask that she had created so nobody could see who she had really become. She had had those two humans in every way it was possible to have them last night. Had brought the women to countless screaming orgasms, and experienced a few of her own, in dozens of different positions until the two humans had literally passed out unconscious. Santana knew how to control the human body and had made it so the two women were practically _starving _for her touch and almost blind in their need. She had teased them mercilessly until they had begged without shame and brought them to the brink numerous times until they screamed for release.

And yet the entire time Santana felt nothing. She looked at them now, with tousled hair across their pillows and gently snuggled into each other and Santana felt just the beginning hint of longing in her, rather useless by now, cold heart.

Santana puckered her plump lips and concentrated before inhaling in a steady and smooth breath. Her smoke was pulled from both women's nose and mouth and crossed the room until it passed her own lips. She sighed when she was finished and the two women snuggled a little tighter together; fully spooning now.

Without her influence, or at least as much of it as they'd had coursing through their systems last night where they'd accepted any sexual order from her without question in their all possessing need for her, they'd be less carnal when they finally woke; which Santana suspected would be hours after the workout she'd put them through.

It wasn't until Santana realized she'd been watching the couple sleep for several minutes that her jaw snapped shut with an audible click and a wave of disgust washed over her. Her flawless mask, smirk on pouting lips and deadened emotionless eyes, snapped back into place perfectly. She turned on her heel and strode from the room without backward glance.

Those two would be gone from her bed by tonight one way or the other.

Santana wasn't surprised to see she was the last of the foursome to emerge and a glance at the clock told her it was almost noon. "Have a fun night?" Puck smirked and threw her a wink. She rolled her eyes at him. He was in the same, sprawled out, position on the couch he'd started in last night but this time he was shirtless. She knew he'd done it just to show off the various hickies and claw marks that decorated his chest.

"What are you, fifteen?" Santana snapped back as she headed straight for the coffee maker in their kitchen.

Puck ground his teeth at the remark but said nothing back to her. Mercedes slid onto a bar stool with a smirk, albeit much less lecherous than Pucks, of her own. "So, _did_ you have a night?" She asked.

Santana shrugged. In truth, Santana had been bored almost the entire time. The party, and the following trip to her bedroom, had been a pretty standard typical night in her life. It truly was sad when unlimited booze and a several hour long threesome wasn't even a blip on her radar anymore; not that she would ever confess that to Mercedes. "I'm surprised you didn't hear." Is what she snarked instead.

"Oh we did." Puck piped you gleefully. "I had half a mind to join you-"

"Puck you always only have half a mind." Santana said with a fake smile and Puck glared.

"I did notice none of the screaming seemed to be yours, Lopez. What's the matter? Didn't have enough juice to get them to want to return the favour?" He snapped.

Santana's normally rich, deep brown eyes flashed the same dark burgundy as her smoke and Puck knew he'd crossed a line. "Want to find out just how much _juice _I have?" She spat from between clenched teeth. The threat wasn't idle; and Puck knew it.

Puck went to stand even though he knew he'd stand no chance against her, his pride simply wouldn't let him back down from the challenge, but Sam's hand suddenly clasped his shoulder and pushed him back down into his seat. "Enough of that." Sam said with a clear warning; it was directed more at Puck than Santana which is the only reason Santana calmed enough for her eyes to return to normal and she finished getting her coffee.

Sam walked over and kissed Mercedes on the cheek and Santana pointedly turned away. She just didn't want to see them being so coupley and, well, happy together. "So, how was the rest of your guys night?" Santana casually threw over her shoulder as she made a point of putting sugar in her coffee with her back to them.

Mercedes hummed in delight. "Pretty excellent. We kicked the partiers out of our bed like halfway through the night."

"And they happily jumped right into mine." Puck grinned, the argument now long forgotten. "Mmm, did that one redhead do that thing,"

"With her legs over her head?" Sam smirked. "Yeah we got that treatment first, bro." Santana nearly snorted into her coffee cup and she met Sam's eyes across the kitchen island. They were shining in amusement and just for a second Santana could see the guy she used to know; the friend she had before everything went to hell and Sam lost his sense of humor.

"Guess I'll have to see if this girl is worth all this talk tonight." Santana commented lightly as she sat herself down on the bar stool. Mercedes grin became twice as wide and Santana arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Don't plan out your whole night before you see what Puck and I did."

Santana didn't know whether she should be excited or disturbed. Mercedes letting her wild self come out to play and planning something with Puck could either be very good or very bad. "Will this be like the time in Chicago where you decided to turn our living into a naked mud wrestling pit?"

Mercedes grin faltered. "Oh hell to the no. That happened one time _Satan, _why you always gotta throw that in my face?"

Santana met her disgruntled stare without flinching. "Because you turned our living room into a _naked mud wrestling pit._" She deadpanned.

"I stand by that decision." Puck interjected from his position across the room.

"You would." Sam muttered. Mercedes opened her mouth to say what the plan was but their heads all snapped over to the centre of the room where a cloud of bright, bubblegum pink smoke appeared in a puff. All four of them groaned in unison.

The smoke dissipated to reveal a rather short, long haired brunette wearing a pleated skirt and a red knitted sweater. Her face was downturned in clear disapproval and her eyes were judgemental. "Oh goody." Santana rolled her eyes and drank a large gulp of her scalding coffee; she suddenly knew she'd need the caffeine to make it through the morning. "If it isn't the preppiest Cupid of the bunch."

"And if it isn't the loneliest Cupid there is." The woman sassed back. Santana's eyes flashed.

"I'm not lonely. I woke up in the middle of a naked ménage à trois just ten minutes ago. When was the last time you can say that happened to you, Dwarf? When was the last time you can say you had a brunette riding a blondes face for all she was worth while you drilled into her with an eight inch strap on just for an appetizer?" Santana had meant her words to be crude, knowing it would bother her, but unfortunately she didn't get the response she was hoping for.

The woman tutted under her breath in a patronizing manner that set Santana's teeth on edge. Santana watched the woman's eyes briefly flash bright pink before returning to normal; Santana didn't like the look of the superior grin painted across her face. "Supposedly mind-blowing sex and yet you felt nothing. Still feel nothing."

Santana pursed her lips but knew better than to deny her claim; it was impossible to hide her emotions from a fellow Cupid. But, she didn't have to admit that to her; Cupid's can only read the emotions, not the motives behind them. "You know what, Rachel, you're right." Puck, Mercedes and Sam looked up shocked at her words; Rachel looked instantly suspicious by Santana's sickly sweet tone. "I didn't feel anything." Santana stood to her full height then and while the move wouldn't be impressive to almost anyone else, Rachel actually was shorter than her. Santana's eyes flashed her dark burgundy and Rachel fought the urge to take a step backwards. "No emotional connection or attachment at all. Just the way I like it." Her voice was ice cold and after she had to force herself to calm. She gently sat back down and reached for her coffee cup again. "Must we really do this once a year, Berry? I should be looking forward to the summer because that's when the mini skirts come out to play and yet I find myself dreading it because I have to endure another one of these pointless, irksome and frankly ridiculous visits from you." Santana scoffed now. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"Simple. I just followed the trail of drunken lust, desires and debauchery and it led me straight to you four. It always does." Rachel replied in her high and mighty tone.

"Good for you, treasure trail."

Rachel's face lost some of its superiority and Santana had to hide her surprise at Rachel's seemingly genuine sadness. "Santana. Please. Come home." She turned to face the others in the room. "All of you."

Santana opened her mouth to speak but was shocked into silence when an angry Sam beat her to it. "We have no home. And if we did, it definitely wouldn't be with the Council." His eyes were flashing cherry red by the end of his declaration. Mercedes instantly laid a hand on his flexed bicep and he took a steadying breath.

Rachel now looked borderline on the edge of tears. "You will always have a home with us."

"So what do you expect us to do, man-hands?" Santana snapped. She was better equipped to deal with Rachel and wanted to save Sam the heartache; she hoped no one would bother to check her real emotions behind her harsh words. "Willingly go back to the Council and accept our punishment like good little bitches?"

"You've done wrong." Rachel said quietly but with conviction. "Your past sins cannot simply be forgiven but with your sincerest apologies you can make up for what you have done."

"What _we've_ done?" Santana almost screeched. "In case you're in need of a history lesson, Berry, the council fucked us over just as badly. Maybe we're the ones owed the apology!"

"You, all four of you, knew the rules, and you broke them willingly." Rachel insisted. "The Council did what it had to. But forgiveness is not off the table. They're willing to give you all a second chance if you make amends."

"And what does that entail?" Mercedes finally spoke up. "Different punishments for different sins? What happens to Sam and I?" She slid the hand still on Sam's arm down to his hand and interlocked their fingers. Rachel immediately looked away; albeit for a largely different reason than Santana had earlier. "That's what I thought." Mercedes hissed.

Rachel shook her head. "There are rules in place for a reason. When you see that what you guys did was wrong and...change...your behaviour, of course you'll be welcomed back home." Mercedes and Sam's eyes changed to cherry red in unison and Santana stepped around the kitchen island to get in Rachel's face.

"Listen here, _Berry._" Her face was twisted into a sneer as she spat the other woman's name. "You don't get to talk down to us about our behaviour. You don't get to talk down to us at all. You're nothing to us. When I walked away from the Council I walked away from your rules so that I can do whatever the fuck I want."

Rachel sighed. "And did you have to drag three others down with you?"

"She didn't." Pucks voice finally joined the conversation and stood closer to them. Santana was impressed that he'd stopped to find a shirt to seem slightly more serious. "Fine I won't speak for Samcedes over there, but Santana didn't drag me. I chose to leave. I walked away and when I did Santana was nice enough to take me in and let me join her. She has been more family to me than the Council ever was. And you know what I think is pathetic?" He spat as he stepped closer and towered over her. "That according to "the rules" _my_ sins are the most forgivable. How is that even possible when we judge me against those three Cupid's right there?" He finally stepped out of her personal space and Rachel tried to hide her relieved breath. "And now you have the balls to come here and ask us to walk back in there and beg for forgiveness and punishment?" Puck smirked and finally looked more like the juvenile badass he actually was. "Well forgive me, but when I'm getting whipped I usually prefer to get fucked at the end."

Rachel now flinched at the crude tone and Santana laughed. She turned her back on Rachel and briefly wrapped her arms around Pucks neck. He was the youngest person in the room and yet he had stepped up and rendered Rachel speechless. Sam and Mercedes eyes slowly faded back to their natural colours and Rachel's cheeks were tinted red in her embarrassment. Santana let the taller man go and turned around to finish what he'd started.

"There's nothing for you here, Rachel. Our sins are our own and for our own reasons we stand by them. We're not going back."

Rachel gave a terse nod and turned her back on them to leave but hesitated. She called one final parting shot over her shoulder. "The sex already isn't enough for you, Santana. You're bored and lonely. When your abuse of power loses its excitement what will you have left then?" Santana clenched her teeth but had nothing to say. "That's right. You'll have nothing."

"You better not come back here." Sam almost growled as he fought to remain calm. "But because we all know you will, fucking knock next time." Rachel shook her head and disappeared in a cloud of bright pink smoke.

Santana was breathing hard against her rage and struggling to keep her power under control. Out of respect the three other Cupids didn't try to read her. For that she was grateful because underneath the quickly explosive rage was a slow burning disgust and regret that feared Rachel's words were correct. Santana's coffee mug shattered into a hundred pieces as she hurled it at the opposite wall and her companions didn't even bat an eye.

Brittany hummed the tune of the song stuck in her head as she packed her clothes into her suitcase while Quinn seethed from her perch on the end of her bed. "How can you not be furious?" Quinn finally snapped when the silence became too much.

"What's the point of being furious?" Brittany asked with genuine confusion.

"Because of what Sue did!" Quinn screeched. "She completely went behind your guy's backs and did this without telling anyone!"

Brittany gave Quinn a smile. "I know what happened, Quinnie. I'm saying what's the point in being mad about it? It doesn't change anything, so let's just be happy about the things we can be happy about."

"What can we possibly be happy about?" Quinn muttered under her breath.

_10 Hours Earlier _

_Brittany skipped over into Blaine's arms when she noticed him and Sugar already waiting outside of Sue's office. Blaine leaned backwards, to lift the taller girl slightly off her feet, which made Brittany giggle. When he released her Brittany leaned down and pecked Sugar's cheek. "Do you guys know what's up?" Brittany asked them. Both shook their heads._

"_We were hoping Quinn might." Blaine admitted. Quinn shook her head and clenched her teeth. Brittany, who sensed Quinn was beating herself up over it, slid over to her side and draped an arm around her shoulders. _

"_Well, who knows? Maybe we're getting a raise." _

_The fact it was said without sarcasm made the other four smile at Brittany. "Maybe." Mike agreed to keep her happy._

_Blaine and Sugar were both already in their stage outfits which meant they were going on right after this meeting. Blaine's black hair, normally gelled to perfection and not a single strand out of place, was completely dishevelled. He was clad in big black boots, fireman pants and suspenders with a tight white t-shirt. Brittany knew a fireman coat and hat completed the look but he'd obviously left them behind. A smudge of black makeup, looking like soot, marred his cheek and though she couldn't see it she knew his muscled chest had been given a similar treatment. Brittany sometimes marvelled at the skill to make the impeccably dressed and borderline metrosexual man actually look like a rugged firefighter._

_Brittany had to assume their dance had to do with costumes because Sugar was decked out in full nurse uniform. She pulled off the innocent look perfectly, complete with her long brown locks pulled back into pigtails._

"_Let's not keep Sue waiting." Quinn finally said in her perfect, professional voice. Brittany knew that in front of the boss her friend Quinn sometimes had to be replaced by the business one. Quinn knocked on the steel door and waited for a call before opening it wide. Sue's office looked like a cross between a high school gym teacher's office and a torture chamber. One entire wall was a glass cabinet housing dozens of different trophies. Brittany had been allowed to inspect them before and found ones for various sport and cheerleading events as well as first place in competitions such as Sharpshooter Rifle contests and alligator wrestling. Brittany had never had the courage to question her boss about them any further._

_The opposite wall held a full sized Iron Maiden. Brittany had actually liked the human shaped metal sculpture until Sugar had blurted out that it was actually a coffin with spikes inside that would stab a person to death when closed. Mike had been livid and Quinn had to sleep in Brittany's bed for two weeks. _

_Sue was where she always was; behind her desk. There were filing cabinets behind her and papers all over her workspace. She didn't look up at all from what she was reading when the group walked in. There were only two chairs in front of Sue's desk and Mike and Blaine pulled them out so that Brittany and Sugar could sit. Quinn took up her place right beside Sue's desk with a somewhat solemn expression. _

_All five of them knew better than to speak before Sue did so they sat quietly. All of their nerves were growing the longer they sat in silence except for Brittany who was tapping her hands to the music from the main stage that she could just faintly hear. _

_Sue didn't at all look like the cutthroat business woman she actually was. Her blonde hair was cropped short in a no nonsense manner and she was sporting a red tracksuit. Only her calculating, shrewd, blue eyes gave any indication to her rather manipulative nature. _

_Sue finally signed her name on the bottom of the page, set her pen down and directed her attention upwards. "Okay kiddies, got some great news for everyone." She smiled showed all of her teeth. "I've just made a deal that stands to make me and the Cheerio Club lots of money."_

"_What does this have to do with them?" Quinn asked instantly; she feared the next thing Sue could do to exploit her dancers. _

"_Everything." Sue folded her hands on the desk and met each of their suspicious looks; except Brittany who looked simply curious. "Some very wealthy clients have come into need of some dancers and I was happy to supply." Their eyes all lit up in excitement. _

"_Real dancing?" Sugar blurted. Blaine, who was standing behind her chair, put a calming hand on her shoulder._

_Sue's eyes hardened slightly. "Isn't what you do every night _real _dancing? Do you not get paid to move and shake your rather flat and unremarkable ass all over my stage?" Sugar squeaked out an apology and gave a sheepish smile to Sue. Once Sue was finished glaring at the girl she turned back to the group. "The clients are currently living in a hotel as they are in town for three weeks and are known for throwing quite the ragers. I'm sure nothing like the parties me and my platoon threw when we were fighting off rebels in Nam with our bare hands but we take what we can get."_

_Quinn's eyes, if possible, narrowed even further. "So wealthy party animals wanted professional dancers?" She had an extremely bad feeling about this._

"_They wanted our kind of professional dancers, Q." Sue corrected her._

"_They wanted strippers." Mike clarified with a somewhat defeated tone. _

"_Not just strippers." Sue looked offended even by the thought. "Every night they invite select people to their hotel to party but it's hard to keep the dance atmosphere going the entire time. Obviously their wealth couldn't buy them any endurance. So they wanted four of my best dancers to attend all of these parties to keep things up, if you know what I mean. You'll be the best little blue pill for the party people."_

"_So we don't have to strip? Just dance with the partiers?" Blaine looked hopeful again._

"_Well you each will be required to perform a little bit. They came to get my dancers after all. So, you'll be packing up in the morning after your shift and going to meet the clients where you'll stay at their beck and call for the next three weeks."_

"_Are you kidding me?!" Quinn finally exploded. "They have to stay at the hotel with these strangers? You can't do this! What if these random's are psycho's?"_

"_Then they're psycho's with a lot of money for what they're paying me to keep you four for three weeks. Do be so hasty with your snap judgements Q, Benjamin Franklin was a clinical crazy who wore tea cozy's at supper time and everyone still marvelled when he invented the light bulb. True story." _

_Quinn ignored her completely. "So they're rich psychopaths! That's even worse. Sue, you can't do this."_

_Sue's eyebrows knit together and she gave a smug smile. "You're giving me an order, Q? I let you play den mother to all these sloppy babies because it keeps them happy and makes them less useless which brings in more money which makes me happy...but don't forget who owns you." Sue's voice turned hard. "The deal is done. The hotel has security, the cheque is cleared and everything is aboveboard."_

"_So we're giving up our lives for three weeks." Milk said flatly._

"_Then we're on the clock the entire time." Blaine added. _

"_You'll actually make a flat rate of double what you'd bring home being on the clock for three straight weeks and all the tips you make while at the hotel are your own." Sue added with a wry grin that said she knew she's just won. _

_Sugar blinked several times before beaming. "Well sign me up!" Sugar practically screamed and Brittany, sitting right beside her, jumped in her seat. Sue glared at her once again. _

"_Okay keep it down, crack bunny." Sue held up a hand as if physically trying to stop her noise. "Same rules apply as the club. You sleep with anybody and the house gets half the cut." _

"_Do we have to?" Brittany asked in a quiet voice._

"_Speak up Barbie Doll." Sue snapped her fingers._

"_Do we have to sleep with these people? Or can we just dance and party?"_

_Sue face softened slightly as it only did when she looked at Brittany. "You don't have to sleep with anybody if you don't want to. But if you do," Sue's eyes turned to Sugar who was practically cowering in her seat, "and believe me I will know about it if you do, the fee is the same and the house gets half." _

_All four dancers nodded and Quinn exploded once again. "Are you people even listening to this?! You're getting shipped off to a hotel with people nobody knows to dance and strip in their hotel room! This is insane." Quinn's eyes were hard but Brittany could see the fear shining through them. "I'm going with them then."_

"_No." Sue said flatly before Quinn's sentence was barely finished. "I need you here to keep all these other miscreants from enflaming my rage even further."_

"_You can't make me let them go off on their own with these fucking strangers for three weeks!"_

_Brittany actually gasped; she knew Quinn had stepped over a line. From her clenched jaw and hands Brittany could tell Quinn knew it too. "I can't make you?" Sue was actually smiling; it looked like a lion showing its teeth before it devoured a helpless animal. "You're right, Q. I can't _make _you do anything. You're free to walk out of this office and out of this club and take your chances. In fact, you all are." Sue turned her predatory grin to each of them. "You can decide you don't want to do this job and walk out of here." Sue pushed her office chair backwards so it rolled over to the safe in farthest corner. She laid one hand on it almost lovingly. All the dancers, even Brittany, now looked as tense as Quinn did. "Anyone? Anyone care to walk?" No one moved a muscle and Sue rolled back over to her place. "That's what I thought. Now, you're reporting to the hotel at 9am tomorrow morning. You," she pointed out Sugar and Blaine, "Spaz-a-lot and Pocket Prep, get your asses on stage and make me some money. You two, just get out of my office."_

_Sue gave a final dismissive wave of her hand as they stood to leave. "You too, Q." Sue added without looking. "I'm sure you can find somebody else's child to take care of."_

Brittany shook herself from the memory of the meeting and really looked at her friend. Quinn was completely rigid and tense as she sat unmoving on her perch. On the outside she looked angry but Brittany's biggest skill was reading people. Her hazel eyes were practically drowning in their sadness and the lines around her mouth, only prominent when she was extremely upset and came from working to control her facial expression, showed a residing pain that Brittany didn't know the reason for.

So instead of prying and trying to figure it out Brittany decided to do what she could and keep it simple. She walked over to her friend and wrapped her up in her arms. Quinn resisted the hug at first but Brittany simply refused to let go. Eventually, slowly, Quinn relaxed and rested her forehead on the taller girls shoulder. "So." Quinn's voice was slightly muffed speaking into Brittany's sweater. "Good things about that meeting?" Her voice was no longer angry; she just sounded tired.

"Well, we get to make double plus tips what we have been. So there's that."

"Okay. Money. What else?"

"Well it's definitely a lot less stripping and more just dancing. It'll be fun!" Brittany couldn't quite keep the enthusiasm from her voice and Quinn chuckled. She pulled away slightly but stayed in the safety of Brittany's arms.

"Fine. What else?"

"Think of it as a vacation." Brittany smiled. "We're getting put up in a fancy hotel, with fancy food and fancy other stuff all for free! Plus we're literally going to party so they'll be free drinks and stuff."

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Don't get too drunk, Brittany." Quinn warned seriously. "Keep your head about you. And don't go anywhere with one of them without Mike."

"I know." Brittany chose not to say anything about Quinn's over protectiveness; it just meant she cared enough to worry. "Plus, we get the chance to meet a bunch of new people who might turn out to be really cool, awesome people."

"Or they might be serial killers." Quinn deadpanned and Brittany tutted at her. "Just please be careful."

"I promise, Quinnie." Brittany repeated for about the fourth time.

Quinn finally stepped away from Brittany and she watched the professional, business mask fall over her face. "Now come on, hurry up. We have to meet the others out front of The Jefferson in less than an hour." She watched Brittany pack a blood red corset and matching thong for one of her acts. "Let's get this shit show on the road."


	3. Chapter 3: Bombing Memory Lane

**A/N: Hey y'all! Seriously continue to be blown away that people are reading my story. I'm a little bit stunned actually. Thank you to you all – JJ**

Will Schuester straightened his tie and ran his fingers through his overly gelled hair. He had finally finished his paperwork and stepped out of his office to begin his morning rounds. When he strut out into the ornate lobby his eye was immediately caught by one of his bellhops, Finn, standing still and staring at the door.

Will huffed under his breath; this was not allowed to become habit. Will kept his fake smile plastered on his face as he walked quickly over to Finn with a brief, but growing, sense of déjà view. "Hudson." Will hissed through his teeth. He glanced at the front doors Finn was staring at and did a double take.

"I wasn't sure what to do. This wasn't in the manual." Finn whispered back. Both men continued to stare where five people were standing just inside the door staring around the room in awe.

Will arched his eyebrow at the group and looked them over. There were three girls and two guys each holding a duffle bag style of luggage except for the shortest girl whose wheelie suitcase was pink and covered in glitter. The Asian man was wearing threadbare jeans and a tight black t-shirt and looked ready for a construction site in Will's opinion; all that was missing was work boots. The other man, who Will assumed was gay, was wearing a sweater and vest and the amount of gel in his hair rivaled Will's own.

Two of the three women were standing side by side and actually pointing out different aspects of the lobby. One, the tallest blonde, was wearing a flowing green shirt and denim cutoff shorts that showed a lot more of her legs than Will was used to seeing on girls not standing on street corners.

Will finally turned his attention to the last of the group and found the other blonde woman staring straight back at him. Will instinctively straightened his spine. The hazel eyes staring back at him actually made him pause; he had a feeling she would be the one of the group to challenge his authority.

Will was positive this was the most low class group of individuals to grace the lobby of The Jefferson. When Finn finally regained some semblance of sense and made to move to walk over to them Will gripped his elbow and stopped him. "I'll handle this personally. Go find some work to."

"Yes, sir." Finn nodded and walked away with one lingering glance at lost looking group. Will strode over to the group attempting to keep his fake smile firmly in place but it was turning slightly into a sneer.

"Hello there, welcome to The Jefferson." Will found himself speaking to the blonde with hazel eyes assuming she would be the one to do the talking for them all. "Is there something I can help you with?" This was said as if he was sure it was a mistake.

"Yes." Her voice was extremely clipped. "We're here to check in."

Will couldn't stop his eyebrows from arching in surprise. "Check in? You are aware The Jefferson doesn't allow bookings off the street, everyone must have made a reservation."

The blondes eyes narrowed even further and her blonde companion laid a hand gently on her arm. She took a steadying breath before speaking again. "Yes, I am aware. My four colleagues have been booked into rooms by four other of your clients."

"Is that so?" Will asked in a condescending tone that made the blonde grit her teeth.

"Yes." She pulled a file out of the bag slung over her shoulder and thrust it practically under his nose. Will gave her the fakest smile he could muster and flipped the first page of the file open. To his intense surprise it actually was the confirmation pages for rooms at The Jefferson. _Did these people just win the lottery or something? _

He flipped to the back page of the folder and checked how the group had paid. He frowned slightly when he noticed that all the fees had been charged to a credit card already on file with the Jefferson. Will paled when he noticed the name; Mercedes Jones.

Three days ago the name would have meant absolutely nothing to him; now it was the only name they had to associate with the four people who had taken over the Presidential Suite and turned practically the entire Jefferson Hotel on its head.

In the last three days there had been more reckless and wild behaviour exhibited by clients of the hotel than there had been in the entire rest of the time the hotel had been open; but mystifyingly no complaints.

They blared music, drank god only knows how much alcohol and Will knew for a fact did drugs inside the suite; and yet no one really seemed to mind all that much. Emma, who was the Head of Housekeeping for the entire hotel, and also Will's girlfriend, had told him just last night that the girls sent in to clean the suite said nothing negative about the foursome at all, which is definitely strange because the girls who cleaned up after their rich and entitled clients always complained about something or rather. He suspected their shy smiles and polite words about them had something to do with the hickies that kept adorning the necks of everyone who left their suite.

Not to mention that if their purchasing the Presidential Suite for three straight weeks wasn't indication enough, the amount that they charged to the credit card on the hotel's file seemed entirely limitless; either they blew more money than they could really afford or they were the richest people currently staying in the hotel. Will had been forced to send his assistant out to make an emergency trip to their liquor supplier because the group was literally drinking the hotel dry. Last night they had paid to have a fog machine shipped to their suite and this morning a file had drifted across his desk saying that they were paying for a disco ball to be installed on the ceiling. A footnote of the document had assurances that they would also pay to have it taken down and returned to normal at the end of their three weeks.

Will looked back up at the blonde in front of him and noticed a smug smile on her face; Will realized that however low class she looked the blonde knew how this game was played. Money talked, always, and the hazel eyed terror knew at least enough to know the name associated with the Presidential Suite was a trump card she'd been willing to pay.

Swallowing what remained of his pride he forced the sneer from his face and smiled at them as he would any other rich, albeit by extension, client. He bowed his head slightly acknowledging that she had won this round. "Of course, this all seems to be in order. I'll have someone take your bags to your rooms." Will snapped his fingers and Finn instantly appeared at his elbow. "This group has been checked into our two Governor's Suites. Please take these lovely ladies bags to the South suite, and the gentlemen's the North."

"Yes, sir." Finn nodded instantly and gave the group his best polite smile. Will noted that he, as expected, now kept his eyes firmly away from the rather model like legs right in front of him. The group looked slightly uncomfortable having their bags taken away from them but the hazel eyed, blonde leader nodded her consent for all of them.

"If you'll come right this way, we'll get you settled with room keys and I'll call up to the Presidential suite and alert them of your arrival."

"That won't be necessary." A voice like liquid honey practically purred from behind them. Will stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around to face the voice. He had only ever seen the four people staying in his suite once, and from a distance. He had been completely unprepared for two of them standing right behind him in his lobby. He assumed, however stereotypical it might be, that the dark skinned, African American woman standing before him was Mercedes Jones. He didn't yet have a name to put to the blonde haired, model looking man standing at her elbow.

Standing between the mystery guests and the low class group with their blonde leader Will hoped he could get out of this situation with his job and reputation still intact; and also without sporting the uncomfortable boner he'd had to deal with after only just _seeing_ the Latina.

...

Santana took another swig straight from her wine bottle, even thought it was probably too early in the day for people to be drinking, as she looked out on the view before her. Santana had gazed on many different views in her lifetime. She had stood on the top, farther out than anyone was actually allowed, of the Rim Trail and watched the sun set over the Grand Canyon. She had sat down on the actual roof of the Empire State building and stared out at the sprawling metropolis that made up New York City. Years ago she had stood on the fabled cliffs of Bali Hai in Hawaii before leaping off into the clearest water she could have ever imagined.

Every time the foursome of Cupids moved cities, changed locations and started the parties over again Santana always found one spot to truly admire where she was. Having never been to any of these places before Santana had no preconceived notions about any of the people there and that thought brought her a rather rare sense of calm; if she couldn't image the people who ruined her life in the view than the view was already perfect.

She hadn't had to look very hard to find her view in this particular city. The Jefferson hotel was basically a castle in its own right and sitting on the roof staring out at all of Richmond was definitely note worthy. She loved how the skyscrapers of downtown were split by the natural wildlife of the James River and created perfect balance to the scene.

Santana took another swig from the bottle even though she knew there were many out there that thought swigging a 1945 Chateau Mouton Rothschild straight from the bottle was nothing short of sacrilegious. Santana chuckled without humor; just another sin to add to her ever increasing list.

Just before the bottle touched her lips again Santana heard the very faint puff that accompanied a Cupid and she sighed before setting the bottle down. She didn't bother to turn around and check to see who it was. None of her group would be foolish enough to bother her when she wanted to be alone; plus she could basically smell the self-righteousness from where she sat.

Rachel moved over to the railing where Santana sat and quietly took a seat down beside her. Santana was grateful that Rachel had the tact to leave several feet of space between them. She _was_ surprised however when Rachel said nothing at all; silence was not the shorter girls strong suit. The other Cupid seemed momentarily content to enjoy the same view Santana had been watching.

Without really thinking about it too much Santana offered the wine bottle over and Rachel took it from her grasp. Santana smirked at the offended look on Rachel's face at the extremely expensive bottle but she took a small sip from it regardless.

Santana finally felt the need to break the silence first. "What the hell are you doing here Berry?"

Rachel was quiet for so long Santana was getting agitated at the thought of being ignored. Santana rudely snatched her wine back and nearly chugged it. "Something felt different this year." Rachel finally murmured without taking her eyes off the sky which was now turning a gorgeous kaleidoscope of different hues of blue as the sun just started to crest over the height of the buildings.

Santana arched an eyebrow at Rachel's words so she continued. "I don't really know. I read your emotions every year and this time something was," she shrugged her shoulders in a somewhat helpless manner that made her look even younger than she usually did, "different. So I asked the Council for permission to hang around the hotel for a while just to see how things are."

Santana managed to both huff under her breath and clench her teeth. "Of course you had to ask the Council for permission on where to spend your time. And I don't need a fucking babysitter." She snapped at the end.

Rachel didn't rise to the bait. "Do you remember the first couple you influenced to fall in love?" She asked out of the blue. "I know they say a Cupid never forgets a couple, but I remember every single detail about my first one. A couple in Indiana." Rachel had a small but happy grin painted across her lips. "He was the star football player and she was the girl next door."

"How terribly fucking clichéd." Santana snarled with as much disdain as she could muster.

Rachel continued her monologue as if Santana had never spoken. "She thought that he was just another dumb jock and he thought she didn't even know he existed. I opened her heart just the tiniest amount so she'd be willing to act on her curiosity when she heard the music." Rachel looked completely lost in memory now. "She found him in his backyard playing an acoustic guitar and singing. She just watched him for a couple of songs until he noticed. Then I took away his insecurities just enough for him to give her a genuine smile. Once those dimples popped I knew that was it. They were hooked." Rachel brought herself back to the present and looked over at Santana who was almost frantically gulping wine now. "That's the hardest lesson for a Cupid to learn, you know? That sometimes the simplest touch, the littlest amount of influence possible is enough to do the trick."

Santana tried desperately not to lose herself to her own memories but she was finding it increasingly difficult. Of course she remembered the first couple she ever influenced; how could she ever forget?

_73 Years Earlier_

_Santana was in a small town in an even smaller town-bar in rural Alabama. The completely wooden exterior and rustic interior was not her style but she was getting into the atmosphere and surprised a little by how much she was enjoying herself. An actually somewhat decent college band made up of acoustic guitars and banjos were playing country music on the makeshift stage and most of the patrons were either crowded around the bar or the pool table._

_Santana remained invisible to the human eye as she leaned against the wall on the bar side of the building so she could watch everything that was happening inside._

_Santana could feel their unmistakable connection from across the room even though they made a point of never looking directly at the other. Not that she blamed them; two college boys in Chickasaw county in the 40's getting caught staring longingly at each other would have started a riot. _

_Santana didn't want either boy to get hurt but it was her job to make them happy; and nothing made her happier than doing her job well. Her eyes changed color as she called on her power to find the first boy in the crowd. She could see the emotions of everyone in the room; a lot of lust and desire. She stopped when she found the shy sort of affection she'd been searching for. The boy was holding a pool cue and waiting for his turn to shoot. He was wearing a letterman jacket, as were most of the people he was standing around, and Santana deemed them to be the most popular group in the room. His blonde hair was slicked back off his face and styled perfectly. He was ruggedly built and sported chiseled features but his green eyes were soft and caring._

_Santana turned her attention to the other side of the room and focussed her power once again. She almost immediately locked onto the blonde boys counterpart; the almost unparalleled pure, but genuine, wanting simply drew Santana in. The boy was standing beside the jukebox with his group of friends. He, like his friends, were dressed simpler in jeans and t-shirts of various solid colors; and from the black stains still adorning their clothes and smudged on their skin Santana figured they were the mechanics and grease-monkeys of the bar. This boy was leaner than the blonde, but well built and his black hair, while still slicked back was a little longer and a touch messier. _

_Santana considered her options before ever so carefully exhaling the smallest amount of her charms she was capable of. The bright, rose colored smoke went completely unnoticed by the crowd as it travelled the length of the room and was immediately inhaled by the blonde boy by the pool table. _

_The change in him was almost unnoticeable but Santana, who was waiting for it, noticed he gripped his pool cue a little tighter and he exhaled a deep sigh. He carefully turned his upper body and looked around as if scanning the room; Santana couldn't hold back her small grin as his eyes stayed locked on the boy of his dreams across the bar. _

_Santana quickly exhaled a small dose of her charms again and when the black haired boy by the jukebox inhaled them through his nose he looked up immediately. Santana was the only one who noticed how their eyes locked even from twenty feet away. A warm feeling settled in Santana's heart and she flushed with pride and happiness. Her eyes, now matching her rose smoke, reflected her joy at her first success; but getting to watch true love grow before her very eyes was all the reward she could ever imagine needing. _

_She didn't influence or meddle with them any farther; she knew it was enough. They would come together and be happy eventually; and Santana wanted nothing more for them. _

"I just think that maybe the lesson's you've learned have been lost somewhere along the way, you know?" Rachel's voice startled Santana from her memory and she flinched back; her heart was actually twinging with remorse and it made bile rise in the back of Santana's throat. She clutched at her wine bottle as if her life depended on it but found it empty.

The feeling in her heart refused to leave her and Santana cursed Rachel for intruding where she didn't belong. Santana stood abruptly and Rachel looked up sharply; she didn't need to call on her own powers to sense the shift in Santana's mood.

Santana took a deep breath and slowly erected the walls she had built steadily around her heart. _You don't care. You don't care. _Santana internally chanted the words like a mantra. _You don't care. _Finally, once her heart was deadened and unfeeling, the way she liked it, once again Santana faced Rachel. "Are you done with your little speeches and trips down memory lane, Hobbit?" Rachel's sad facial expression at the change in Santana was all the confirmation she needed. "Good."

Santana lashed out faster than a snake and griped the collar of Rachel's sweater. She yanked the girl forwards off balance and leaned into her. Rachel cowered as Santana snarled with her face inches from Berry's own. "Don't ever try to manipulate me again."

"I wasn't!" Rachel protested.

Santana tightened her grip and Rachel began to feel her air supply being cut off. "Fuck you." Santana growled. "Try something like that ever again and I'll make you regret it." Santana's eyes flashed her impossibly dark burgundy before she roughly exhaled a large amount of nearly black smoke; it shot down Rachel's nose and mouth like a bullet and Rachel instantly started choking.

Santana released her grip and without the Latina holding her up Rachel's knee's hit the roof as she collapsed. Santana watched Rachel's eyes light up her bright, bubblegum pink color before being swarmed by Santana's own burgundy. The color's swirled and fought for dominance in the Cupid's eyes as she continued to gasp and struggle for air.

Santana smirked as she noticed Rachel's flushed face, tightly clenched hands and back trying to arch where she kneeled; Rachel's own disposition was trying to fight Santana's charms but it was an intense struggle. Rachel's hands, as if they had a mind of their own, trailed up her bare thighs and her nails left angry red lines where they clawed into her flesh. A moan tried to escape Rachel's throat but it was choked off as her lungs desperately tried to breathe.

Santana finally tired of watching the other Cupid and listening to her gasp so she turned her back on her. "Remind the Council I have no problem shooting the fucking messenger." Santana carelessly tossed over her shoulder as she headed for the roof door.

"San...tana..." Rachel barely managed to gasp as she choked and her body fought a losing battle against Santana's charms. "Help...please..."

Santana paid her pleas no mind and didn't hesitate for a second as she left Rachel in a heap right before the other Cupid's eyed rolled back and she collapsed unconscious.


End file.
